


Where My Need for Hobbit Culture Met My Obsession with Grief

by aHostileRainbow



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Anniversaries, Drabble, Grief/Mourning, Hobbit Culture & Customs, Memorials, Rituals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 10:43:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11146779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aHostileRainbow/pseuds/aHostileRainbow
Summary: When the Company of Thorin Oakenshield arrives on Bilbo's doorstep fourteen years after laying their king to rest, he is not prepared. But he has never been prepared for them, so it seems only appropriate to welcome them with food and drink and soft beds.They have all been mourning long enough.





	Where My Need for Hobbit Culture Met My Obsession with Grief

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Requiem for Kings](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/297987) by ChaosWithImagination. 



> If you've gone to read Requiem of Kings, this would pick up as an AU scene at the end of Chapter 2.

Taking in the fear and grief around him, wreathing his dear old friends, Bilbo finally sighed and stood. Ignoring the eyes this earned him, he padded silently around the table to a small cabinet set into the corner wall of the dining room, where the wall met the kitchen entrance.

Sensing the surprise from his dwarves, Bilbo brushed off the vines and soil that usually disguised the cabinet's thin golden handle, pulling it open with a clean wrench of the wood and metal that had become embedded in the wall. Inside the cabinet, the dwarves craned to see anything, though there seemed to be only shadows.

They watched curiously as their hobbit proceeded to stare into the darkness for several moments, his lips moving soundlessly. At last, he reached into the hole and produced a tall, thick candle of the deepest violet, just verging on scarlet. As the dwarves watched, an unexpected reverence lit Bilbo's face and he carried the candle to a clear spot on the mantle above his hearth.

Pulling a match from his pocket, Bilbo struck it once, twice, and smiled to see a spark. He set that tiny flame to the candle wick with sure fingers, and spoke clearly for the first time.

"Lady Yavanna, your husband's children have come to your own in search of healing. On this night, I ask your blessing and protection for this home, so that we might be safe in our grief and soothed in our sorrow."

Watching the candle flame settle into an even burn, he closed his eyes for a moment, hoping this would work even though he had to improvise a bit with the original mourning prayer. Just as he heard a curious rumble from what had to be Dwalin behind him, Bilbo felt it - Yavanna's hand had come to cup his modest smial for as long as the candle burned and he knew she would be watching over them all now, in this time when they were most in need of her healing.

Gratefully, he closed the prayer with a phrase in the old language of Hobbits, words that meant comfort and love and thanks and it felt like stepping into a lit hearth or sinking head first into cool, wet soil with Yavanna's proximity.

Turning, he watched the dwarves fall silent and still, eyes closing one by one, as security and grace, a Mother's warmth, engulfed them. He was pleased to see stress and fear lines easing from their features already, small smiles appearing on a few faces.

After the first minute, he cleared his throat and the attention returned to him, almost a dozen wide dwarf eyes focusing on their hobbit. Bilbo smiled.

"You did not think you had learned all there was to learn of hobbits, did you?"


End file.
